


save me from the troubles of my own skin

by endofadream



Category: Glee
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Body Image, Body Worship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 20:26:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endofadream/pseuds/endofadream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous prompted: "Have you ever considered writing a story about Blaine being self cautious about his body? Like maybe he thought about it in school cause almost every guy in glee club has amazing abs, but now he lives in NY w/ Kurt and let’s say Isabella invites them (w/ Rachel and Santana) to a fashion show and their backstage and every guy is shirtless and maybe Santana (jokingly) says to Kurt to date a guy with abs, and even though Kurt says he likes Blaine’s body but Blaine gets worked up about it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	save me from the troubles of my own skin

“Wow.” Blaine looks around, eyes wide, as he takes in all of the chaos.

Models are running everywhere in various states of dress; hairdresser, makeup artists, designers, all follow that same frantic pattern of darting from person to person, from station to station asking how everything is going, is everyone ready, is this rack of clothes for now or for later?

“I can’t believe your boss hooked us up with this,” Santana says as she watches a particularly tall and lithe model with chiseled features dart around in tight briefs. “It’s a shame I don’t like dick,” she says directly to one of the makeup artists who’s been leering at her for the better part of the last five minutes. He looks immediately away, and the model that he’s working on gives Santana a wink.

“I’ve been doing a few favors on the side for Isabelle and she thought that this was the perfect way to show her gratitude.” One of the passing models, a man with sandy-hair and leaf-green eyes, stops, pauses, and gives Kurt an appraising once-over.

“What are you doing after the show, gorgeous?” he asks, voice sweet like honey, intoxicating like liquor. The well-tailored pants he has on hug his legs and ass in all the right ways, and Kurt’s staring, but so is Blaine.

Rachel and Santana watch, wide-eyed, silent.

Kurt blinks, looking close to swooning for a second, before he shakes his head and gropes for Blaine’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “I’m engaged.” His words shake a little, but they’re no less effective, and despite Blaine’s heavy stomach at being so obviously dismissed by this model, he feels warmth in his chest.

The model gives Blaine a sharp look, one side of his mouth curving up. “To him?” Before Kurt can answer he shakes his head and he’s gone, striding away and disappearing into the chaos.

Blaine’s stomach rolls, and for a few moments he feels unsteady, like the floor is wobbling underneath his feet. Sure, he’s happy that Kurt had turned the guy down in an instant—Blaine didn’t doubt that. But that look…there’s no way to describe it as anything other than scornful. Like _this is who you’re choosing to marry? Someone like him?_

Kurt squeezes Blaine’s hand again and Blaine instantly melts into the touch; his breath, which had begun to unconsciously pick up, begins to slowly even out. He shouldn’t dwell on this. People are always going to have different tastes. Right?

It’s not that he doesn’t love being here, either—he _does_. It’s more or less a teenage wet dream come to life. They’re backstage before a fashion show, hot guys are running around shirtless, and…they all have perfect, airbrushed bodies that, if Blaine wasn’t seeing them firsthand and in the flesh, would swear they weren’t real. And that’s what bothers him.

Blaine scoots closer to Kurt, desperate to feel the commanding, soothing presence of his fiancé beside him. With his other hand Blaine tugs at his cardigan, adjusting it to drape just so around his torso. He tries to concentrate on what an honor it is to be here, how this isn’t an opportunity many get to experience, but all he can focus on is the amount of stares he’s getting in his direction.

And how many of those stares are for _Kurt_.

Santana is quick to pick up on it, and she laughs, tossing her hair over her shoulder and turning to face them. “Looks like you should date a guy with abs,” she jokes. “That’s like the sixth model that’s leered at you since we got here.”

Blaine’s insides twist sharply as Kurt’s cheeks burn.

“Santana!” Rachel admonishes, putting her hands on her hips and glaring.

Santana raises her hands. “I’m sorry, but have you _seen_ how many people have been staring our way since we got here? And it’s not because of you or the hobbit over there, that’s for sure.”

Blaine shifts uncomfortably, dropping his head. He’s known for awhile that his body has never been as good as Kurt’s—back at Dalton, when he’d been in the Warblers and had been boxing every day it was easier to stay in shape. He had never had much going on for him, but he was still at least toned.

Being at McKinley and in the New Directions required less exertion. The anger that had traveled with him to Dalton is now a thing of the past, pushed further back with the recent move to New York and his permanent right side of the bed. He’s been happy, has let his guard down, and as a result he’s also let his exercise and dietary habits go lax. But that still can’t undo the effects of all-consuming loneliness while Kurt was gone and a genetic predisposition to weight gain; Blaine, in his opinion, looks almost nothing like his former self.

Kurt, on the other hand…

“I _like_ Blaine’s body,” Kurt snaps, squeezing Blaine’s hand. “And in case you’ve forgotten Blaine and I are _engaged_.”

Right before they leave to go to their seats, Kurt pulls Blaine aside, observes him with wide, compassionate eyes. “Are you okay?  I know Santana was joking, but sometimes she just takes it too far.”

Blaine shakes his head, plasters on a fake half-smile as he leans up for a kiss. “I’m fine,” he lies when they part. He tugs at his cardigan again, adjusts the waistband of his jeans. “We should go before the show starts.”

Kurt doesn’t look entirely convinced but takes Blaine’s hand anyway, leading them both through the chairs and to their seats.

——

When they get back to the loft—sans Rachel and Santana, who had decided after an intense silent conversation with Kurt that they were going to go out grocery shopping and wouldn’t be back for a _very long time_ —Blaine tries to beeline it towards the bathroom but Kurt catches his hand, stops him before he can even take five steps.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Blaine looks up, puzzled. “The bathroom?”

“No, you’re not. You’re coming into the bedroom and you and I are going to have a talk.”

“But I—”

Kurt gives Blaine a glare that’s stern enough to have him shutting his mouth and following wordlessly. Once they get there, Kurt goes to draw the curtains closed and Blaine sits on the bed, absentmindedly running his hand over the comforter.

Moments later the bed sags with added weight, and then Kurt’s hand is on Blaine’s, pale-skinned and long-fingered. Kurt’s voice, when he asks, is no-nonsense: “I know there’s something wrong with you, Blaine. What is it? What can I do to make it better?”

_Make me lose about ten pounds. Make me taller and leaner._

Blaine shakes his head, feigns innocence but can’t quite look Kurt in the eye. “Nothing,” he mumbles, his chin tucked towards his chest.

“Bullshit. I’ve been dating you long enough—and have known you even longer—and I can tell when you’re avoiding something.” Kurt places his fingertips under Blaine’s chin and Blaine lets Kurt tilt his face up. Their eyes meet and Blaine feels frozen in place.

“Was it what Santana said?” Kurt asks softly, his eyes never wavering.

Something crumbles, landslide-style, in Blaine’s chest. He bites his lip, nods his head, and closes his eyes to try and force back the sting of tears. He knows that Santana wasn’t being mean, that she was joking—hell, she’s one of their biggest supporters, and since Blaine’s moved in he’s gotten closer with her. But his weight—which keeps going slowly up—and his body are incredibly tender spots, chinks in the armor that expose the vulnerable flesh underneath.

“Blaine,” Kurt says.

“Yes.” Blaine thins his lips and hugs his arms to his chest as he squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to see Kurt’s disgust with him. He’s surprised, honestly, that they’ve still lasted this long. Blaine had thought that by now Kurt would look for someone more glamorous, someone more fitting to be seen on Kurt’s arm. Not him. Not some college freshman who’s too short and has too big of an ass and has really bad hair—who is he to be seen with someone as svelte and model-gorgeous as Kurt?

“You didn’t have to lie to Santana,” Blaine says quietly, his throat tight, the words squeezing themselves painfully out. He has to look away, now, can’t bear the thought of seeing the emotions playing out across Kurt’s face. “I know my body isn’t the…the greatest. And that it’s not what it used to be.”

“Blaine, what the—” Kurt grabs Blaine’s face, forces him to look forward. Kurt’s eyes are intense, almost angry, and Blaine tries to shrink back but finds himself immobile. “Baby, where is this all coming from?”

Blaine squeezes his eyes shut. Where had it even begun? After Kurt had graduated, he supposed, and beginning with the Men of McKinley calendar, where Blaine had begun to realize that everyone had a more-defined abdomen than he did. His old shape had still been there, but just barely, and next to Jake and Sam, Blaine had felt like a sloppily-drawn caricature. Who was going to buy that magazine with him in it?

“It’s nothing,” Blaine tries again, tries to move and look away and calm the roiling in his stomach.

“No, it’s not!” Kurt’s voice rises, just slightly. He repositions his hands on Blaine’s face, and his eyes are faintly red-rimmed, shimmering with tears. “Do you think that I don’t find you attractive anymore? Is that it?”

Hearing Kurt say those, say those words, makes Blaine whimper like he’s been physically hurt, like they’ve reached out of Kurt’s mouth and slapped him, open-palmed, across the face. It’s only a matter of time now before Kurt says that he is. Blaine’s always going to be a disappointment, so why should his relationship not join in on that never-ending list?

The anger diminishes in an instant, and Kurt’s face falls, his brows furrowing as his lips part. “God, Blaine, baby, no, no.” He scoots closer, scoops Blaine into his arms, and Blaine goes willingly, feeling like he’s filled with sawdust, heavy and weighted down and useless. When Kurt’s arms wrap around him Blaine cries, soft and hitching.

“I still think you’re as handsome and as gorgeous as the day we met,” Kurt whispers.

“I’m fat,” Blaine sobs into the collar of Kurt’s shirt. “You got…you’ve always looked like a model but you got so much _hotter_ while I was gone, and I’m never going to look like that and I _h-hate it_. You might as well just d-dump me and date one of those mo—models from the show.”

Blaine finds himself suddenly being pulled back, Kurt’s hands tight on his shoulders; he looks up, blinks owlishly, unable to quite comprehend the fiery look in Kurt’s eyes.

“Don’t you _dare_ say that,” Kurt says. His eyes narrow in anger, but there is also hurt there, and that makes Blaine hurt, too, makes him think _why am I always doing this why am I always fucking up why_.

Blaine opens his mouth but Kurt is there, beats him to it. “Do you really think that I would do that, Blaine? Do you think that I would _leave_ you just because your body has changed just a little bit since we started dating?” The hurt in his voice is sharp, genuine, and it rises a little more with each word.

Blaine wants to say yes, but there is also still a part of him that screams no, that he’s being irrational, that this is _Kurt Hummel_ , the love of Blaine’s life, who took him back even after he shattered his trust like a delicate china figure. Kurt can be shallow, yes, but he has also grown up since high school.

“I just want to look attractive for you,” Blaine says, quietly, running his left thumb over his right, pushing at skin and watching it stretch over bone. He keeps his head down, doesn’t think he can look at Kurt right now, not like this, not when his insecurities are exposed to the air and are stinging like raw nerve.

Kurt lets out a sound, something that could be frustration but could also be pain—it’s a hybrid that Blaine can’t quite make out. Kurt grabs Blaine’s chin again, forces his head up, and Blaine tracks with his eyes a shining tear that streaks down Kurt’s face.

“You’re always going to be attractive to me, Blaine,” Kurt whispers. He briefly bites his lower lip before letting go. “You’ll be attractive to me even when we’re old and sagging and have no hair and can barely make it around the house.” Blaine lets out a sharp bark of laughter, and Kurt smiles, letting go of Blaine’s chin to stroke the backs of his fingers tenderly down Blaine’s cheek. Blaine resists the urge to grab Kurt’s hand and hold it there. “It doesn’t matter what your body looks like. I’m always going to be attracted to _you_.”

“But I’m still—”

“Gorgeous Blaine Anderson, who doesn’t need a perfect six-pack to get me willingly into bed with him.” Kurt’s smile doesn’t waver as he scoots closer, drops his other hand high up on Blaine’s thigh. Blaine sucks in a sharp breath of air, then smiles when Kurt scratches at the tender inside of his thigh in a way that tickles more than arouses.

“There’s that beautiful smile,” Kurt teases, pressing his forehead to Blaine’s. He tilts his head again, hesitates, and slowly brings their mouths together. Blaine meets him without hesitation and feels the slick slide of a tear down his own check.

“Let me show you how much I love you,” Kurt whispers. His voice has dropped, gone rough, and Blaine shivers at the memory of all the promises held in that tone. The hand on Blaine’s thigh goes up, over his groin, up to his stomach. Instinctively Blaine sucks it in, tensing, but Kurt shushes him. “Just let me, B, please.”

Blaine tries to calm his pounding heartbeat, tries to silence that nasty voice in the back of his head. He pulls back, stares into Kurt’s concerned eyes, and finally nods, slow. “Okay.”

Kurt is gentle in pushing him down; Blaine lets himself be led back, falls with his elbows to the bed as Kurt straddles his waist with ease. He sees Kurt’s eyes flicker down, but in the next moment Kurt is dropping his weight, lips pressed to Blaine’s, and Blaine falls easily into it, tipping his head back deeper into the pillow as he drops his jaw and lets Kurt’s tongue slide over his lips.

“I love you,” Kurt whispers, kissing at the corner of Blaine’s mouth.

“I love you, too.” Blaine fists at the back of Kurt’s shirt, tugs it up to get to hot skin underneath. Already arousal is pooling low and branching out, making his heart pound and his head swim. He needs to get Kurt naked, needs to kiss and bite at skin and perfectly-sculpted muscle.

But then Kurt’s hand is sliding down along Blaine’s torso, up under the hem of his polo, and he’s pushing it up to Blaine’s armpits before Blaine realizes what’s happening. He lets out a whimper against Kurt’s mouth, tries to twist away, but Kurt holds him firm, kisses Blaine hard and deep.

“Don’t,” he murmurs. He pulls back, eyes shifting blue-green-blue. His hand skims down Blaine’s torso again, but this time it’s skin against skin, and the fine hairs on Blaine’s stomach rise in gooseflesh at the flighty touch. “I promised you I was going to show you how much I love you. Please.”

Blaine tries to think rationally, tries not to let himself freak out. But he’s so hard, and he’s missed this so much. Why shouldn’t he be able to trust Kurt? Kurt has been there every time Blaine has needed him. Why would he run away now?

Slowly, slowly, Blaine begins to relax. He takes deep breathes, nods his head, and directs Kurt down for one more kiss. When Kurt pulls away with a slick smack, Blaine flushes red, but all Kurt does is smile, looking up invitingly through his lashes as he crawls down Blaine’s body before dropping to press a kiss just above Blaine’s left nipple before closing his mouth around it and dragging his tongue..

Blaine strains up, letting out a gasp, and Kurt peppers kisses along his skin as he says, “You’re so sensitive here. I love it.” With his other hand he rubs, broad-palmed, over Blaine’s other nipple, and Blaine whimpers, pushing his chest up as he squeezes his eyes shut.

Kurt presses one more kiss to Blaine’s nipple before going lower, his tongue dragging down the middle of Blaine’s abdomen, leaving a chilled, slick line behind it.

Kurt looks up through his lashes, eyebrows raised, and Blaine bites his lip, clenches at the sheet as Kurt says, “I can still feel that overrated six-pack you had the beginnings of.” He strokes down Blaine’s side, stops just at his hip, where the waistband of his jeans begins.

Kurt takes his time, presses lips and tongue to soft skin and the faint hint of downy hair. Blaine’s relaxing, sinking into the sheets, but when Kurt reaches his belly, that little pooch of fat that he’s always been self-conscious about, Blaine tenses up again.

It’s gotten noticeably worse, what had made Blaine want to wrap that stupid robe tight around him and run during the calendar photoshoot. Right now it still bears the faint red lines of creasing from his jeans, and Blaine is embarrassed, so, so goddamn embarrassed. He looks disgusting, looks huge; he needs to put his shirt back on _right now_ —

“Shhh.” Kurt presses a kiss to the heave of Blaine’s belly. “It’s okay. You know this is what I’ve always loved about your body, right?”

Blaine shakes his head.

“It is. It’s so comfy, so _you_. I’ve never taken the time to worship it like I should, but…” He nuzzles it, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses until Blaine is shivering, his cock twitching in his jeans. When Kurt bites, sucks, without warning Blaine arches up, crying out and grabbing at Kurt’s hair. Kurt repeats it, sucking until there are two fading, slick bruises, until Blaine is so hard and so aching that he’s begging Kurt for more.

Somewhere in the haze of arousal, of mechanic, lust-driven stupidity as Kurt helps him out of his jeans and underwear and he sits up and tugs his shirt up over his head, Blaine realizes that _this_ is why he loves Kurt. Because Kurt can make him feel okay even when he’s not. Kurt knows just what to say to make things right. Kurt is _honest_ and means all of this. When he breathes out, “ _Fuck_ , you’re so gorgeous,” as he kneels between Blaine’s naked, spread legs while Blaine flushes bright red, Blaine knows that he isn’t lying.

And, most importantly, Blaine knows that Kurt loves him. All of him.

“Naked, now,” Blaine pleads, latching onto Kurt’s arm.

“Let me fuck you,” Kurt pants out harshly as he alternates undoing the buttons of his shirt with pressing bruising kisses to Blaine’s mouth. “God, need to fuck you so hard, babe.”

“Yes, fuck, of course,” Blaine gasps, hurriedly undoing Kurt’s button and zipper. “Always want you to fuck me.”

They’re clumsy, and they stumble more than once, but Kurt laughs and so does Blaine, and Blaine loves seeing that carefree smile on Kurt’s face, all teeth like no one but Blaine hardly ever sees. When Kurt’s naked he gropes at the nightstand for the drawer, pulls it open roughly and grabs lube and a condom.

“What do you—?”

“Roll over—”

They speak at the same time, laugh when they do. Blaine obeys, a little bit of that self-consciousness returning as he flips and raises himself up onto hands and knees. His ass is a lot more… _there_ than it used to be, and now it’s more fat than muscle.

“ _God_ , I knew it,” Kurt groans. The bed dips at Blaine’s shins as Kurt moves closer, and he can’t stop his surprised yelp when Kurt grips his ass, squeezing and spreading. “Fuck, you had an amazing ass before but now it’s just _phenomenal_.”

Blaine flushes—with surprised pride or embarrassment he doesn’t know—and then moans, eyes going wide as Kurt gives one of his cheeks a sharp slap. He looks back, surprise, and his lips part when he sees how turned-on Kurt looks, with his wild eyes, flushed skin, hair in disarray from Blaine’s raking fingers.

Kurt’s words warm Blaine up, and he’s whimpering, begging, “Please do something, _please_.”

Kurt rushes through fingering Blaine, but he’s still gentle, makes sure that Blaine is comfortable, and still pays generous amounts of attention to Blaine’s ass. And, honestly, Blaine doesn’t mind—for once he’s emboldened by Kurt’s desperate words and actions, knows that, despite his own niggling insecurities, Kurt _doesn’t care_.

When Kurt gets the condom on, slicks up his dick, Blaine doesn’t have to ask before Kurt is gripping his waist and flipping him over, settling between Blaine’s legs. Blaine locks them around Kurt’s waist, drags himself closer.

He looks up and Kurt smiles sweetly, bending to give Blaine a quick kiss.

“I wanted to see you,” he murmurs. “I wanted to see how gorgeous you look when you come.”

“You sweet-talker,” Blaine teases, grinning wide as he cups Kurt’s cheek in his hand.

Kurt turns his head, presses his lips to Blaine’s hand in response. They both look down as Kurt spreads his legs a little more, situates his weight as he drags the sheathed head of his cock over Blaine’s hole. Blaine shivers at the feeling, breathing in slow and long as Kurt begins to push in.

He can’t help his groan when Kurt bottoms out, his body adjusting to the thick, heavy weight stretching him, filling him. It hurts but it doesn’t—right now, with his emotions all over the place, it feels grounding, perfect, necessary.

Kurt drops to his elbows immediately and presses their chests together, drags out and pushes back in. Blaine inhales sharply, closing his eyes as he grips at Kurt’s shoulders. He feels the thump of Kurt’s heartbeat next to his own, can hear Kurt’s breaths as they get longer where Kurt pants against his neck.

Blaine tips his head to the side as Kurt kisses up his neck, speeding up his thrusts as the sound of their skin together goes from dull and muted to loud and sharp. His nails dig crescents into Kurt’s shoulders, his legs tightening as pleasure washes over him.

“So hot,” Kurt breathes into Blaine’s ear, gently biting down on the lobe as he fucks back into Blaine’s body. “You’ve always looked so hot getting fucked, baby. So perfect.”

One of Blaine’s hands relocates to the nape of Kurt’s neck, the skin hot and sweaty under his touch. With every thrust that jostles his body Blaine can feel his belly jiggle, just slightly, but for the first time since Blaine moved here it doesn’t bother him—in fact, it thrills him, just a little, knowing that Kurt, his gorgeous, stunning fiancé, loves him like _this_.

“Kurt,” he moans, breathy and low. He hitches his legs higher, angles his hips to meet Kurt’s thrust. “ _Fuck_ ,” he gasps when Kurt’s cock brushes just right.

“So beautiful,” Kurt’s murmuring, fucking Blaine harder, harder, until the bed is creaking. He nips at Blaine’s jawline, kisses at the softness of the slight extra skin just beneath. “God, you feel so good.” He presses his mouth, hot and open, to Blaine’s. They don’t kiss, can’t when their bodies are rocking like this together, but they breathe and pant, lips touching as Blaine works a hand between them, fists his cock and begins to stroke.

“Gonna come,” Blaine gasps, arching his neck up. Kurt latches on with a hungry, desperate sound, his teeth sharp as he bites, his tongue soothing as he sucks. Blaine speeds up his hand, whimpering high in the back of his throat as Kurt pounds into him, forcing air out of his mouth in tiny grunts. Blaine opens his eyes to slits, stares at the ceiling, at the mussed head of hair against his cheek, the flex of muscle and the undulating movement of Kurt’s body as he fucks him.

“C’mon, yeah,” Kurt pants, licking up Blaine’s neck before kissing him, hard and sloppy and with too much tongue, and Blain closes his eyes again, raises his head up and meets the force of Kurt’s mouth. Kurt redoubles his efforts until Blaine is almost writhing, electrically alive as the heat of orgasm burns hotter, brighter. “Fuck, Blaine, come on, baby, come.”

Blaine does, then, Kurt’s cock sliding in just right as Blaine twists his fist over the head of his cock; he arches up, tightens and cries out as it pulses over him, washing his body in white-hot pleasure.

He slumps down, grabbing weakly at Kurt’s back as Kurt grunts, pushing into him harder, hard, until he presses deep, grinds his hips, and stills, his cock pulsing inside the condom as he pants Blaine’s name against his neck.

“I don’t know about you,” Kurt breathes, his breath warm against Blaine’s neck, “but after that I feel _fantastic_.”

Blaine rolls his eyes and playfully shoves at his shoulder until Kurt lifts himself up. “You’re ridiculous.” He rubs his hands up and down Kurt’s arms and admires the dip and bulge of muscle.

Kurt grins, kissing the tip of Blaine’s nose. “You love it” He carefully slides out, Blaine trying not to wince, and ties off the condom expertly, tossing it on the floor for later. “Mmm, now…” He straddles Blaine’s hips, runs his palms over Blaine’s pecs, down his stomach and through the streaks and droplets of pearly white come. “How does my sexy fiancé feel after getting his brains fucked out?”

“Silly,” Blaine answers. When Kurt’s brows crease, a confused look crossing his face, Blaine adds, “Because I let my insecurities get the best of me and forgot how much you love me.”

“Nothing like a good romp in the sheets to fix that,” Kurt teases, lips quirked.

“I’m serious,” Blaine stresses. “I know that our bodies are never going to be the same, but—”

“No buts. Unless it’s your butt.” Kurt presses his finger to Blaine’s lips. “I don’t care _how_ you look, because you’re always going to be sexy to me, and I’ll say it until I run out of breath trying to convince you.”

Blaine laughs, tugs at Kurt’s arm until Kurt falls and they can press their mouths together, lips sliding lazily. He still isn’t a hundred percent convinced or comfortable, but this will do for now, he thinks, as Kurt moans into his mouth. “I love you, Kurt. So much.”

“I love you, too. Now shut up—I’ve still got some convincing to do, and it’s going to make talking _very_ difficult.”


End file.
